Eternally Incorrigible
by CeredwenFlame
Summary: Nigelcentric fiction. You'll just have to read it to see. Rated for some of the content. Thank you. Yes I know I didn't tell you anything about the story really, but that's called mystery. chuckles
1. Disclaimer

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I DO NOT OWN CROSSING JORDAN… I AM MAKING NO PROFIT FROM THIS. THIS IS MERELY FOR THE ENJOYMENT OF MYSELF AND OTHER FANS. THANK YOU.**

**NOTE: Yes, I realize there are a lot of fics like this out there, but this is what the muses wanted and this is what was written. There's more somewhere, I was writing it hard copy style, but I have to find it, seem to have misplaced the notebook while cleaning… I'll try to update as I can. Please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome… Anyone FLAMING will be viewed with contempt, disdain and laughed at for being a complete idiot. Have a nice night!**


	2. Cliche?

Nigel was at once everything and nothing that he seemed. Of course that was the life he had gotten accustomed to living a very long time ago. Too long ago for the average scope of his colleagues to ever hope to fathom, and he wasn't about to tell them otherwise. No, he wasn't about to tell them that a monster was 'alive' and walking amongst them. Better to leave that to their imaginations. Of course the reality of what he was, was far different than what the movies painted beings such as himself to be. That was in part thanks to things such as talismen and whatnot.

Yes, life and unlife were a lot more complicated than most would ever dream them to be. However it was all right for Nigel at this point in time. Though this recent case by a supposed Vampire did have him bristling. To his colleagues it seemed only that his usual morbid fascinations were coming to new light, if they knew the truth of it things would be far different. He could tell almost instantly that their chosen suspect was not a real vampire. Call it immortal's intuition. There was something about it that smacked of falsity. That and Alastair Dark? Please, names like that went out forever ago. He ought to know, considering that to his knowledge he was the oldest remaining vampire left in this world.

Cliché, it would seem – wouldn't it? However forensic pathology had actually been his line of work when he still had a pulse and still needed to draw vital breath. Both things he feigned now so that no one would be the wiser. He went back to it from time to time – not in every new life he chose, but every so often he would miss it and go back. It would seem a fitting job for one such as himself, wouldn't it? Well working in a blood bank would be nice, but he didn't really think they'd like that he'd be making withdrawals. It was a private vampire joke…

Only one of his colleagues worried him at all. Only one of his colleagues held his ancient attentions enrapt. That would be the enigmatic and mischievous Jordan Cavanaugh. There was something about her. She was an old soul of course, but then there was something else. Something deeper, darker – she seemed a kindred spirit perhaps. Either way she had held him ensnared from the first day she'd whirled through the office… To some she may have seemed as a hurricane, to him a breath of fresh air to his decayed lungs. She was the curious sort and damned good at it as well and that was part of what worried him. If she ever had the inkling, if anything ever tipped her off, she would not rest until she had wrested all his secrets from him. What scared him more is that he knew that if she pressed, he would bare the world to her. Not his soul, for he'd lost that long ago, but surely the world at the very least if not more… if not all he could reveal unto her.

Why? She was something else. She did not belong in this world anymore than he did. Which was why he so often stuck his pale neck out for Dr. Cavanaugh. This case was testing his mettle surely enough. It was making him want to turn tail and go right back to England from whence he'd come. The only thing that was holding him here was that same beauty that could well damn him a second time. Of course his knowledge of the darker, seedier side of life was going to serve well in this case… and likely arouse her suspicions more. Oh how he longed to arouse her in other ways, but that would have to wait. That would come later… before he disappeared again, he meant to bring her with him… oh yes, she would make a lovely huntress, a lovely one indeed and she would be his and he would be hers… but there was time for that… time for it all later.

Now he stuck his mind to the task of seeming more like the Nigel that they all knew and depended upon - the quirky, enigmatic, flirtatious, motorcycle riding, British forensic pathologist. It wasn't hard; it wasn't that far off course from the real Nigel. Not that they knew that. Not that they knew anything about him really, and it was for the best if he thought about it. He just had to be patient… he had to flex that darker side of himself without anyone realizing and bring in the true culprit of this crime. Of course if it really was one of his comrades in blood, he was going to have to hide it, but something about this didn't seem like it was from his kind… too sloppy. He knew well how to hide and dispose of bodies so there wasn't a trail of exsanguinated corpses laying about – as should any fledgling really.

He made his way into the meeting room. It seemed the entire crew was gathered for this case, not that he blamed them really, and it was something of a fascination for all mortals. It was something that they pondered, was immortality possible? Was a vampire's life so terrible? So many questions… and they mostly all believed that it was nothing but codswallop… fiction – thankfully. If every Tom, Dick and Jane knew of their existence, there would be hunters and too many fledglings and not enough humans… a dodgy deal if ever there was one and he liked things just the way they were thank you very much.

He took his seat between good ol' Buggles and Jordan… mmm Jordan. He couldn't help but wonder how she'd taste, and not just her blood either. He pulled himself out of that thought before things got awkward and gazed around to see who else was present. Oh look, Hoyt, that goody two shoes detective from Wisconsin. Why Woodrow had ever chosen to come to Boston had escaped him. He didn't want to think about it, in fact, he almost vehemently refused to think about it. That cop rubbed him the wrong way, and of course the fact that Woodrow was also enamored with a certain Irish forensic pathologist did not help the young man's case in the least. Nigel would love nothing more than to rip out the bloody bastard's throat… but that too was not a thought to be having at the moment.

Even Lily was here; poor Lily… that one was an innocent. She was the grief counselor of course, and he didn't really understand why she was here, save for that she was a part of the team. It really must be serious if they were involving even people like Lily in this. He slouched in his chair and steepled his hands and rested them on his stomach as he often did and turned his full focus to Garret, the man in charge of this rag tag bunch of misfits and M.E.'s. They really were coming out of the woodwork tonight then weren't they? Nigel just sat there and waited for the proverbial show to start.


	3. Mission Improbable

It was of course as he had feared. They would be assisting the police even more in this investigation than they had in the past, and due to his long, dark hair and paler skin, he was the best candidate to check out the scene. Of course his habits, interests and what not had certainly not helped him stay off their respective radars… But he was who he was and even after the long life he'd led, he was still that same person… Immortality hadn't changed him too terribly much. It was just one of those things. One got better, wiser, weirder and more withdrawn with age he supposed – and none here would ever guess his true age. He'd gotten better at lying throughout his time on this earth as well. What would they do without him?

"Right Sir, so I'm to assume then, that I'm to be out at night, scouring the Goth scene as it were and seeing if I can find our dear boy Dark or at least find out information on him then?" He asked turning his dark gaze on his Chief.

"Yes, Nigel you are. Detective Hoyt will be accompanying you."

Nigel couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "Pardon me Garrett, but are you off your bloody rocker? Hoyt? No offense but our dear Woodrow here would definitely not fit in at any of the clubs in the area. If we're going to do this right, he's going to have to look the part, hell, he's going to have to look, sound and walk the part. Frankly I don't think he'll be up to it. He's as straight laced as they get." Nigel scoffed.

Garrett had to admit, Nigel did have a point, Woody would stick out like a sore thumb in the scene they'd have to invade. "Well we are assisting with a police investigation Nigel… and he is the Officer assigned to the case, we don't have much choice really." Garrett said, pinching the bridge of his nose in contemplation.

"Woody, do try to lose the goody two shoes image. If I'm going to have to take you along on this endeavor, do your best not to embarrass yourself… or me. All black if you have it… an all black suit would even work… and we are going to have to pale you out Woodrow… you look too alive to go to any club like that… and I suppose a bit of eyeliner wouldn't hurt…. Darken you up a bit?" Nigel chuckled.

"I will not be wearing makeup. That just is not going to happen… you can't make me." Woody stammered looking rather quite indignant.

"Well then you can't go I'm afraid. You're going to scream cop just walking in there looking like you do and we'll not get a stitch of information out of them. Come on Woodrow, let that untarnished image go for a night, have some fun, live a little." Nigel coaxed, chuckling mentally… Live a little… Nigel wasn't even alive, but they didn't need to know that… another little private joke… how he loved them. Everyone else was getting a kick out of this conversation as well… the fact that Detective Hoyt was thoroughly embarrassed and the topic of putting the lad in makeup of all things had them practically rolling in the aisles. It was quite fun for Nigel really.

"No, I'm just… No… You can't leave me behind and you won't get me to wear makeup Nigel." Hoyt argued.

"Awww but love, you'd look so smashing in it." Nigel chuckled in that seductively gay tone he sometimes used, which got another big laugh out of those assembled.

"Well you two will have to work something out. You want to catch this guy Woody you might have to take some pointers from Nigel since he seems to be so familiar with the lifestyle and the clubs that you'll be visiting in search of our suspect. So come to some sort of an agreement and don't jeopardize the case, that's all that I ask." Garrett says as he gathers his papers and stalks out of the office shaking his head.

"Come on Woody, I think you'd look good in all black with a paler face… maybe a bit of red lipstick looking like you'd just drunk blood…" Jordan says in that purring little laughing tone of hers. Woody just stares at her blankly as always and I couldn't help but notice that she seemed to like the picture that 'vampire' was painting in everyone's head. I would so love to show her…

"Let's face it Jordan, luv, Woodrow's just not man enough to do it. Scared of makeup and a little bit of black clothing… poor, poor boy." Nigel teased. Jordan just turned to him and laughed while Woody sulked. It was a beautiful picture indeed.

"Too right Nigel. Woody's just a bit too All American guy for this. I mean sure, Superman could go from Mr. Apple Pie to super hero, but our Detective Hoyt just doesn't have that in him. He's a bit too Clark Kent for all of this. Too bad though." Jordan chuckled with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Nigel loved that look on her face. Oh she would make a most excellent companion. She was already so well suited to his secretive, eternal lifestyle. He really had to stop thinking about that; there was a case to solve.

"So Woodrow, what will it be? You do have to as Garret said come to some sort of agreement with me here. There are some things that we could do to make you fit in a bit better that will not completely destroy your Wisconsin American Guy image. We'll get you a black suit, a black dress shirt, a black tie… you might even have some of these things in your wardrobe. We'll muss up your hair a bit, give you a bit more of a roguish look. You'll have to do your best to not act like the apple pie cop that you are. I won't make you wear eyeliner, but we will be putting a wee bit of white powder on your face just to get rid of a bit of the tan… Unless of course we use the old sunless tanner bit. That could work, but we have to make you look a bit more of the scene Woodrow, there is just no help for it. If you go into one of those clubs dressed as you are, they will know instantly that you're a cop and that will not bode well for us." Nigel explained, trying very hard to not make fun of Detective Hoyt excessively.

Woody just sighed deeply. He didn't want anything to do with the goth scene – those kids had always creeped him out in school… Though, he had to admit that Nigel had a point. He hated to admit it, but with the image that was Woodrow Hoyt, he would stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of a goth club. "Alright, alright Nigel. I'll wear all black and I'll even put the stupid white powder on my face. There will be no eyeliner, there will be no pictures and we will never speak of this ever again… Alright?" He sighed; it was one of those things.

"No problem Woodrow, after all – Vampires don't show up in pictures." Nigel snickered… of course that was yet another Hollywood lie, but Woody didn't need to know that.

"No pictures? You mean Nige is the only one that's going to get to see you all dark and dashing? That's so not fair." Jordan said with a bit of a pout.

The meeting was quickly adjourned… as Dr. Macy had everyone going back to work. "So, you do have something suitable to wear, don't you Woodrow?" Nigel inquired, keeping the teasing out of his voice.

"I'll have to pick up a black dress shirt, but yes Nigel, I have something I can wear." Woody said with another deep sigh. This was all wearing on him quite a bit. This just wasn't his thing. He wanted this to be done and over with as quickly as possible. He wished he could just let Nigel go off and do this, but he was the cop in this case and Nigel was just the M.E. That meant that he had to go… if only things had been different.

"Well then, now that this has all finally been settled, shall we to our respective homes and meet back here after dark to go to the club and see what we can find out?" Nigel inquired, regarding Woody with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, I guess here's as good as any other places…" Woody sighed… he was wearing that kicked puppy face again. Thankfully we were all spared the sight of it for any length of time since it was at that point that Woodrow decided to take his leave.

"Do you think I was a little too hard on him Jordan, love?" Nigel asked, turning toward his favorite colleague.

"Nah Nige, he's just a little too all American apple pie for his own good, that's all. It'll do him good to let go like this… though he'll probably be just as much of a stuffed shirt as always." Jordan chuckled.

"Well, lucky for us, there are a lot in the goth scene that are just as stuffy as he is. Don't worry luv, I'll do as much of the talking as Woodrow will let me." Nigel chuckled. Jordan couldn't help but join in on his laughter. It was something of an infectious thing.

"Well, I'd better get going luv. I've got some work to get done if I'm going to make a good show of it at the club… that, and I'll have to make sure to bring a few things, in case our dear Woodrow doesn't pass muster." Nigel chuckled.

"Go get 'em Nige. Knock 'em dead… again." Jordan laughed as she turned and made her way out of the conference room. Oh how he loved her sense of humor, how she could be cutting and scathing at times and just plain hilarious at others. He shook his head and forced himself to go out and get about this evening's task.


	4. Costuming

He made his way home in record time, even though he was only on his motorbike. Still, he couldn't help but feel the excitement and anticipation that was building in his blood. He'd also have to make sure to have a bit of a feed before he left, or else the temptations could prove to be too much and that was something he just did not need.

He really ought to feed before he got ready… it wasn't that he needed to feed often, the talisman and his age helped to take some of that off, however when he was going to be faced with such temptations as he was likely to meet this night, he wasn't going to take the chance. He did not want to risk his true identity being found out… he simply couldn't. With that thought, form gave way to darkness and the shadow found its prey only a few blocks from its home… and the shadow was sated by the blood of an abusive pimp, and then disappeared into the deeper darkness of the night.

His hunger sated, Nigel made his way into the bathroom of his apartment. He took a quick shower and got the smell of the chemicals in the morgue off of himself. The scent of death was fine to hold, but not those bloody chemicals. After being satisfied that those noxious chemical odors were gone, he extricated himself from the confines of the shower, toweled off and with towel wrapped around his waist, began to ponder an outfit for this evening.

Well fitted, tailored black leather pants, a black poet's shirt… and one of his jackets, that would do, and of course his boots. His mind made up on his attire for this outing, and he began to get dressed. Oh how he'd missed the feel of supple leather against his skin. He didn't get much call for it being a medical examiner after all… however he loved it all nonetheless.

He looked at himself in his mirror and pondered ditching the jacket, of course he had to keep up the appearance of needing it, though he did not require it. Also, there was the color of a recent feed to deal with – that was not going to do. He got out his makeup and properly paled his face and neck and even his hands… and then he lined his eyes in black kohl eyeliner. He refrained from using the black lipstick, that just wasn't his style and the taste of it was something he couldn't ever get used to.

Satisfied that he was gothed enough for this outing, he put a few things in his bag in case Woodrow failed to meet up with expectations and then made his way back to the medical examiner's office. Of course, he couldn't help but harbor the hope that Jordan would still be there and that she would approve of his outfit… that would be lovely, wouldn't it? He thought so… of course he was somewhat disappointed when he arrived… Woody was outside waiting for him and the lovely Dr. Cavanaugh was nowhere in sight… and Woodrow looked positively impatient. It seemed Nigel was going to have to show Jordan his dark side on another night.

"Cheer up Woodrow… you haven't done all that bad. Just have to pale you out a bit and we'll be on our way before you know it. I must say, you've done better than I expected, even if you still look a bit preppy… Ah well… such are you in unlife as you were in real life I suppose… We'll just have to go with that… still, best to let me do most if not all of the talking… I've a way with these people." Nigel chuckled as he pulled the white face stuff out of his bag.

"Let's just get this over and done with alright Nigel?" Woody said in an impatient tone. Nigel just shrugged and nodded and proceeded to pale out the preppy Wisconsin farm boy cop. Of course what he didn't tell Woodrow was that this was custom blended make up even better than what stage actors used… it didn't have a taste or an odor, and it bonded to the skin, he'd find that he'd be scrubbing the makeup with soap and water to no avail, he'd have to have make up remover to get the stuff off… Perhaps it was a bit evil of him to do, but Nigel had never said that he was good – now did he?

"Well it's going to have to do. Really rather wish you'd stop being such a Nancy and let me give you the full goth treatment, but you're right we ought to be done with this and on our way." Nigel sighed, though there was a smirk still glittering in his gaze.

"This stuff feels weird, I don't know how you people stand it." Woody complained as he moved to follow Nigel's motorbike.

"Simple, we don't mind it. Forget that you're wearing it and you'll find it's a lot easier to live with." Nigel chuckled as he got back on his bike and put his helmet on. "Let's go then." Nigel laughed as he started up the old motorbike and was on his way, though he did wait for Woody to get back in his car and be able to follow before going off toward the club.


	5. A Transformation

Once there, Nigel just seemed to transform in a manner of speaking. He went from the quirky M.E. that Woody was familiar with, to a true member of the club – a creature of the night. He gave Woodrow a wolfish grin and led the way in to the club. He carried himself with much more confidence than he ever showed at work. Of course this was more his element in a way… and considering the nature of the place and the people within he thought he could let go a little bit… just a little bit.

A lovely doll in get up that made Nigel's feigned pulse quicken came up to them and licked Woodrow's face, which shocked the poor bloke something fierce… "Mmm O. My favorite." She purred and then turned her enchanting gaze toward Nigel… "And you look like a B, that's yummy too." "Positive." Nigel said with a smirk. "Mmm even better." She cooed as she brushed against him. He just let a cooling hand trail over her arm as he held her gaze…

"You wouldn't happen to know an Alastair Dark, would you love?" He asks softly… his voice a seductive purr. She nods… "He's a regular." "Is he here tonight?" "Yes." "Where might we find him lovely?" He asks, still holding her gaze, with all the training of a man quite used to playing with the little birds like this. "The Crypt." "Thank you love." He purred and for her ears only he added… "I shall catch up with you some night soon." And she smiled and started off… and Woodrow broke in… "Where's the Crypt?" and Nigel wanted to plant him in the nearest wall… the woman just smirked and pointed past them to a set of double doors, heavy carved wooden doors. Nigel mouthed a thank you and smirked at her before turning his attentions back to Woody.

"My dear Woodrow, let me do the talking. You don't know how to word things for these people… you sounded like a complete moron." Nigel hissed at him, and though Woody didn't know it, he was the only one that could hear Nigel.

"I'm here for business not pleasure." Woody retorted.

"A bit of pleasure wouldn't kill you, you know. Might give you better luck in other areas of your life Woodrow. All work and no play will make you dreadfully dull, whitebread." He chuckles darkly. He was in a mood now. He almost too easily pushed the double doors open… he cut a glance over his shoulder at Woody to keep quiet.

Alastair Dark was sitting on a throne – regular indeed. Nigel let his senses open and the scent of living blood caught his nose, so a little mortal playing at being one of the undead… much easier all this was now… he relaxed a bit. "Alastair Dark, I presume?" He asks in a somewhat reverent tone, that these mortals would appreciate for their efforts… The man nodded. "Might I have a word with you away from such lovelies? What I have come to speak of, should be kept… close." He chuckles… and pushes a bit with his willpower though Woodrow wouldn't understand it.

"Woodrow my friend, do keep these lovely birds company… would you?" He asks, and he exerted will to make the cop obey without realizing… after all Nigel was the goth, Nigel could get this accomplished on his own and he was no slouch, if he needed help, he'd call for it. Nigel bowed to Alastair and the man rose from his throne…

"What is it you wish to speak of?" He asked as he led Nigel into an anteroom.

"How is your book coming along? I heard one was being written… and I could not help myself but to come and find you and ask… because it is rather unprecedented… Don't you agree?"

'Yes, well after living so long, one begins to feel nostalgic and as one fears forgetfulness which can begin when one has lived so long and seen so much, one starts to feel the weight of their own immortality. Besides, who would believe a vampire's tale anyway?" He asks with a chuckle. Oh this was rich… this poor mortal so deluded by his own grandeur.

"It is a shame it won't be written."

"What do you mean?" He asked sounding genuinely shocked.

"Your author, dead I'm afraid, exsanguinated. Rather suspicious, don't you agree? Do you have any enemies Alastair, that might want to pin this on you? Help you greet a sunrise perhaps?" He asks carefully, keeping his gaze locked with Alastair's.

"Quite suspicious and rather disturbing news. Not the brightest man, but there was something about him that was endearing, reminded me of a fellow I knew so long ago… and of course one makes many enemies over the course of centuries… While most of them are dust in their graves I'm sure there are a few that walk the world still… but I could not tell you where they were or who they are now."

"Of course you couldn't." Nigel chuckles.

"Is there anything else?"

"You will have to come with me, Mr. Dark, as until we have proof otherwise, you are a suspect… in the murder of the author." Nigel says softly, his voice haunting and invading the man's mind.

Alastair turned to make his escape… and Nigel's smirk deepened. "Stop." He says in a rather commanding tone and Alastair can't help but listen… another sign that he was human. "You will come with me, you will follow me… you will be compliant and you will be truthful… do not make me arrest you." He says in a sibilant tone that just lends itself to seeping in and making you want to follow those words.

They walk out of the room and Nigel has to try hard to refrain from laughing at the state of dear Woodrow. "Come now Woodrow, our business here is ended…" He calls out, trying to not laugh… "Alastair has agreed to accompany us to the private party." He explains, his eyes flashing a warning to Woody to keep his mouth shut. Woody flounders to extricate himself from the arms of the women, looking much like Harker attempting to get away from the Brides… ah, Dracula… The women twittering on, asking if they can come, pouting that their fun has been ruined.

"Another time lovelies… another time… but we have a business proposition for Mr. Dark… and pleasurable as it would be my lovelies, we mustn't be distracted." He purrs and they seem to quiet down likely because of the promises hiding in his eyes. Oh yes, he'd have much fun, and much free food as well… after all it wasn't always necessary to kill and he could make his bite quite pleasurable if he was of a mind to.


End file.
